I stared firmly at the stupid, wanky pallet tabletop, pressing my lips together so tightly that tears started to prickle at my eyes. Nope. That wasn’t the reason for my stinging eyes. Oh God, I was going to cry … and in front of …

“You’re Chad?” Joe got to his feet, extending a hand. A pale, lanky arm came into my field of vision, taking Joe’s hand in the limpest handshake known to man.

Levels of rage that I hadn’t felt since everything had gone down years ago suddenly crashed over me. It would be so easy to just dart my hand out, grab his arm and snap that spindly little wrist of his. Make it hard for him to paint those hideous, copycat artworks of his.

I clenched my fists under the table and looked away.

“The one and only!” Chad said, and I could hear the self-absorbed smirk in his voice. “Kayla said you wanted to talk business?”

“Yes, I was hoping you might tell Jemma and me about your business model.” Joe took a seat, gesturing for Chad to join us.

I couldn’t even slouch down in my chair … because I didn’t have a chair, just a shitty, uncomfortable milk crate. Of all the awful, awkward brunches I’d endured with Joe, this was the absolute worst.

“Jemma? You’re kidding! Jemma Bliss?”

He was the worst actor in the world. He’d known it was me the second Kayla, his little side piece turned ‘love of his life’, had scuttled to whatever slime bucket he’d been lurking in to report that I was here.

“The one and only!” I wondered if he caught the mockery in my tone. I steeled myself and finally raised my eyes to meet his.

“God, it’s been … what six⁠—”

“Seven years, Chad,” I interrupted, picking up my coffee and taking a much more tentative sip while I gathered my frayed nerves. Thankfully it had cooled to a drinkable temperature. “We … well, you graduated seven years ago.”

His smile went from smarmy to tight, and two spots of pink appeared on his lean face. Good. At least he had the decency to feel a bit shitty about what he did to me.

“You two know each other?” Joe asked, looking delighted as he took a sip from the straw of his green juice.

“We … were in a lot of the same classes at uni, back in the day.” Chad sat, the milk crate making a creaking sound as he settled himself on it.

“Jem had a rough trot with a professor in her final year,” Joe said, closing the lid of his laptop. “It sapped her confidence, and she couldn’t find the resilience to face going back to retake his class the following year.”